The Roots of Evil

Parshas Noach

Posted on October 18, 2023 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

What would it take for the entire world to be condemned to destruction? What heinous sins would society have to commit for Hashem to decide to wipe it out and start over again? We do not have to look far for the answer. In this week’s Torah portion, the world is inundated by the Great Flood, its cities, its institutions, its people, even its animals, all swept away. Only the hand-picked passengers on Noah’s ark were allowed to survive. What brought this on?

 

The Torah gives a lurid account of the level of depravity to which society had fallen, widespread idolatry, promiscuity and adultery so pervasive that even the animal kingdom was perverted, the total collapse of moral standards, the degeneracy and the shamelessness. And yet, the Torah tells us, the final decree of annihilation was triggered by financial crimes – “vatimalei haaretz chamas,” and the land was filled with robbery. Why was the crime of robbery considered worse than all the other horrendous crimes of society? After all, robbery is not a capital crime, while some of the others are indeed punishable by death. Why then was robbery the fuse that ignited the explosion called the Great Flood?

 

To further complicate matters, the Midrash that the robbery so prevalent in society was of a quite peculiar nature. Legally, a robber is not required to return stolen goods worth less than a small coin called a prutah. Such small sums are considered unworthy of litigation, and the victim undoubtedly writes it off. The people in prehistoric society would, therefore, steal from each other numerous times but always no more than the most minuscule sums. Over a long period of time, however, they were able to secure the property of their victims in a legal manner. But let us stop and think for a moment. This was no brazen robbery, no flaunting of the established authorities! Why should just this form of robbery be considered the worst possible offense, sufficient cause for the total inundation of society? How did this accepted, almost white-collar form of theft surpass idolatry and adultery in pure evil? The answer goes to the heart of the Torah perspective on the relationship between sin and evil. Hashem does not consider people as individuals or society as a whole to be evil simply because they committed a sin, even a very serious sin. Hashem recognizes that people are but flesh and blood and that sometimes it is exceedingly difficult to control the impulse to transgress, to step over the line.

 

Sinners are not necessarily evil and incorrigible.

 

The powerful attraction of sin does not, of course, exonerate the sinner. It does not absolve him from having to take responsibility for his actions and suffer the consequences. After all, he was given free will, and it is his moral obligation to exercise it when faced with temptation. But if he fails, if he is still not beyond hope. When the momentary weakness passes and he faces the enormity of his transgression, he can still feel shame and remorse. He can still find room in his heart for repentance.

 

But what if the sinner contrives loopholes and stratagems to give his sins a patina of legality? Such a person is truly evil and incorrigible.

 

He pats himself on the back for his strict adherence to the law, even as he thrusts his hand into another man’s pocket. This person acts not on impulse but with loathsome preparation and premeditation. What chance is there that such a man will have a change of heart, that he will repent? Not very likely. And therefore, Hashem recognized the corruption of society as permanent and irreversible. It was time to wash it away.

 

A ship was sinking, and land was just a faint line on the horizon. The dust-encrusted life rafts were unfortunately all leaky, but the passengers ran to grab them anyway.

One wise man ignored the rafts and prepared to plunge into the water.

“Don’t you want a raft?” asked the captain. “I can get you one.”

 

“No,” said the wise man. “If I know that I must swim with all my might I have a chance of surviving.

 

But if I mistakenly think I have a raft under me, I am surely doomed.”

 

In our own lives, we may sometimes find ourselves rationalizing our transgressions and shortcomings, maneuvering to find a path through the minefields of our moral dilemmas. We must recognize these tendencies as danger signals, as warnings that we are turning down a path that leads to corruption. We should take advantage of these moments to reevaluate ourselves, to transcend the frailties of the human condition and choose goodness for its own sake. At these very moments, when we stand on the brink of ruination, the right choice can elevate and enrich us for the rest of our lives.

Stop the Flow Before the Flood

Parshas Noach

Posted on October 28, 2022 (5783) By Mordechai Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

The story of Noah and the great flood actually began at the end of last week’s Torah portion.

 

That is when G-d determined that the moral corruption of man had reached terminal levels. His decision was to erase all of mankind, indeed the whole world, and start afresh. As this week’s reading begins, He instructs the prophet Noah, the only righteous man of his generation, to begin construction of an ark that will save his family and all the various kinds of animals.

 

Noah was given 120 years to construct this life-saving boat. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 108b) explains that G-d intended a public, 120 year spectacle as Noah completed his construction project. People would inevitably ask Noah what he was doing, and this would give him the opportunity to warn them of the impending flood, and to beg them to change their ways to prevent the destruction.

 

Sadly, his warnings went unanswered. It’s perplexing: why did no one heed his message? Given Noah’s ongoing work, the skeleton of the Ark warning humanity that the evil into which they had descended was going to destroy the world, why didn’t anyone turn away from evil and corruption? Noah was known both as a righteous man and as a prophet, so his statement of G-d’s intent was undeniably accurate. Yet, over more than a century, as multiple generations of children asked their parents about the big Ark Noah was working on, and about his prophecy, no one took his message to heart. Even when the flood rains began to fall and the truth of the prophecy was coming to life, no one changed their ways.

 

The people didn’t change, because they were not able to change. Their 120 years of stubborn refusal to budge proved that their evil was beyond repair. As the Talmud says (Eruvin 19), “The wicked, even at the gates of purgatory do not repent.” Habits have the potential to reach such a state that even if you know that your behavior is wrong, and you say you want to change, you tragically lack the ability to change.

 

Habits, and even addiction, do not usually reach the intensity of Noah’s generation. Most often, they can be changed — but its not easy. The recalcitrance of that generation is a lesson for all of us to be vigilant in our behavior, and avoid forming destructive habits. The more habitual an activity is, the more difficult it becomes to break the pattern.

 

The challenge we have is that although we are wise enough to know that our behavior is wrong, our actions do not necessarily follow. The sages of the Mishna (Avos 3:22) say, “All whose deeds are more than their wisdom, their wisdom will endure.” The secret to practicing what you preach, is to practice! And practice, and practice some more. When you learn a piece of wisdom, find a way to put it into practice. Commit to some small improvement, something easy, and keep to it. If your good deeds, those tiny changes, accumulate, they too will become habits, and the great wisdom you’ve learned of how to live a more meaningful, joyful, spiritual life, will endure and stay with you for a lifetime.

 

 (Based on Lev Shalom, Rabbi Sholom Shvadron ztl